Epilogue
Bourbon
It was warm, far warmer than an English evening. The insects hummed in the trees, as Valentine and Marissa walked down the narrow path toward the sandy beach. This was their last evening. Tomorrow they would be setting off on the journey home to England and Abbey Thorne Manor, to take up their lives as a married couple.
Marissa had enjoyed their honeymoon but it was time to go home, and she was looking forward to it.
She found herself missing the old manor house and the people she’d come to know and love, as well as her own family. Lady Bethany had sent a letter to say she and Jasper were well and Jasper was pestering her to marry him.
But there was a reason that made her a little nervous about returning, a reason she hadn’t told Valentine yet. It was silly to doubt him, she knew that—she’d believed all her doubts were laid to rest. Perhaps it was because everything had been so perfect; she just didn’t want to spoil it.
Valentine was growing restless, too. He was talking about the Crusader’s Rose and how he meant to ensure that this time it remained in his family for many generations to come. Morris had written to say the cutting Mrs. Horton provided was growing strongly and would be ready for planting by the time he returned.
They slipped off their shoes and walked barefoot down to the edge of the sea. The water sparkled silver and gold, catching the setting sun and reflecting it back like thousands of precious stones.
“You’re very quiet, minx,” Valentine said quietly, his fingers entwining with hers.
She smiled at him, her dimple showing. “I was thinking how much I will miss our island.”
“We could always stay longer.”
She tried to read his face—did he mean it or was he trying to please her? She’d found that with Valentine it was always best to tell the truth. “Thank you, Valentine, but actually I am a little homesick.”
His shoulders relaxed in relief and he leaned forward to kiss her. “Me, too.”
They walked again, as the light faded. Lamps on fishermen’s boats winked out in the dark ocean and the breeze tasted salty against her lips. A wave came in, washing over their feet, and they stopped to enjoy the
sensation.
“Will it seem strange to you,” she began tentatively, “sharing your home with me? After so long doing very much as you wished, day after day?”
“My dearest girl, how can you ask such a thing? You were right when you said I was hiding from life before you came along. I was too cowardly to take a chance, in case I was hurt again. I’d lost all confidence. But you’ve healed me. I will always be grateful to you for taking me in hand.”
“Valentine, it is you who healed me,” she cried, reaching up to fling her arms about his neck.
He held her against him.
Her voice was a warm mumble against his neck. “I’m asking you such a thing because I am concerned you will not be pleased with my news, Valentine.”
He stilled, aware of all the things that could go wrong and how terrified he was of losing her. “What do you mean?”
She told him.
His heart was pounding in his chest. Slowly he let her slide back to the sand and, with a shaking hand, tilted back her face, brushing aside the wayward strands of dark hair. Her eyes were shining up at him, her mouth on the verge of a smile, but there was doubt, too, and the hint of fear.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “For making me the most fortunate of men.”
“Babies cry, Valentine, and children can be noisy. And naughty—”
He laughed. “I know; I was both.”
Valentine knew with a fierce certainty that when his son, or daughter, brought a treasure for him to see, he would not send them away. He would never make his child feel unwanted as he had, long ago.
He took a deep breath and told her so.
His wife listened, and then she looked at him as if he was the most wonderful man in the world. Valentine gave her another hug, enjoying her love for him, before they set off along the beach again.
There were plans to be made, dreams to be dreamed, a baby to prepare for, but for now they said nothing, simply enjoying being together.